


So Cliché It Hurts

by emmastilinski



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alcohol, Alive Boyd, Alive Erica, Alive Hale Family, Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - Human, Beacon Hills High School, Beacon Hills Lacrosse Team, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Jock Stiles, Lacrosse, Loss of Virginity, Marijuana, Nerd Cora, Partying, Pining, Underage Drinking, idk what else ok bye
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-03-12
Updated: 2014-05-03
Packaged: 2018-01-15 11:11:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,980
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1302748
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/emmastilinski/pseuds/emmastilinski
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles would totally be able to tell you the exact moment popular became an adjective to describe him. It was the night he won the lacrosse championships for the Beacon Hills Cyclones. But if you asked him when he started feeling comfortable with said popularity, and with the parties, copious amounts of friends, girls, and sex, well, he’d tell you he isn’t quite sure if he ever has. It isn’t until he meets the intriguingly reserved Cora Hale that things just start to…feel good again. AKA: The fic that puts Stiles Stilinski and Cora Hale in the lead roles of every single boy meets girl teenage rom-com ever made.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. the first of many firsts

**Author's Note:**

> this fic was requested by the OG lil nuggin ayana (www.starkwolfs.tumblr.com) and is all for her.  
> this is also my first ANYTHING on ao3 and im almost certain i did something wrong, but hey, rookie mistakes am i right.  
> enjoy.

Stiles Stilinski had never been good at much of anything. In his eyes, anyways. Yeah, he could navigate the internet with an intermediate level of expertise, he could make a mean bowl of mac and cheese, and had the renowned talent of firing witty, sarcastic comments at anyone and everyone, but as far as he was concerned that was about it.

It wasn't until the Beacon Hills Cyclones lacrosse championships that Stiles realized he was actually capable of being more than that lanky, hyperactive kid who's always warming the bench and watching the girls he pines over get swept off their feet by pompous dickbrains. All he needed was a good, proverbial kick in the ass. Coach Finstock provided just that.

Greenberg just so happened to get a ball to the balls and was benched until his voice returned to it's normal octave and he stopped throwing up. That meant Stiles was his replacement.

"I can't believe I'm saying this, but STILINSKI! GEAR UP AND GET ON THE FIELD!" Coach demanded, and Stiles froze. In fact, he never really thawed out until he made his first goal and all the back pats and helmet slaps fueled something inside him that he'd never felt before. Confidence.

It felt good. It felt really fucking good, and it showed. Stiles dominated the field, as if every play he'd ever studied, every practice he'd gone to, and every game he spent sitting on the bench was providing him with each of their key elements. The crowd roared. At one point, he even heard them shouting his name like they do in the movies. “STI-LIN-SKI, STI-LIN-SKI!” It was fucking great.

He won the game for his team that night and everybody knew it. He even worked himself up to believe that he was that night's hero. Something he’d never really been good at doing.

Little did he know that the next year of his life would be the epitome of what every teenage boy dreamed of.

Little did Cora know; she'd be a part of it.

~*~

"Hey, not so fast Cora." Derek's calloused fingers were wrapped gently around the bicep of his little sister's arm, and she sighed with aggravation. So close.

"Derek, seriously? You've given me more than enough first day of school pep talks. The least you could do is have a little more faith in my judgement and maybe let me out of the car." Cora motioned to her arm with a slight nod of her head, one foot already out of the car door.

Derek let go before he continued. "I have complete faith in your judgment. That doesn't mean I'm the same way with your soon to be peers." He practically spat the word.

"Yeah, well, that's high school. I've gotten used to it, so you should too."

Derek opened his mouth to counter her argument, but was cut off by a shrill, metallic ringing. 

"Oh, darn. Gotta go Derek I'll be home around three-thirty okay bye!" She interrupted in a flurry of rapid fire words. And with a feigned grin, she climbed out of the car, waved, and started a jog to class.

"Cora! God dammit." Derek huffed, and despite his frustration, watched Cora carefully until she made it safely into the building before driving off.

~*~

Beacon Hills High School's hallways were already flooded with bodies. Normally, a new student would feel overwhelmed at the sight of it, but Cora paid the commotion no attention. She just held her books close to her chest and shuffled through the pulsing crowd of teenagers towards her locker.

"Cora! Hey!" Shouted a voice very familiar to her. It belonged to Lydia Martin. The redhead ended her conversation with a tall, gorgeous brunette and made her way over. The wall of people in front of Cora seemed to part as soon as Lydia was by her side.

"I've been looking for you all morning. I thought we agreed that I was going to show you around. Introduce you to some people." She pressed, her strawberry blonde curls bouncing with every step.

"Uh, when did we agree on that?" Cora questioned, finally reaching her locker. She slung her backpack off one shoulder and started emptying her books onto the blue metal shelves.

"Well you didn't--voluntarily anyways--but your sister Laura told my mom to tell me to help get you out of your comfort zone this year. She specifically said 'Loosen her up. Introduce her to some people, preferably boys.'" Lydia smiled proudly.

Cora tried, but she couldn’t suppress the annoyed groan that barreled past her lips. Laura was always meddling and gossiping with her coworkers. That’s actually how Lydia and Cora got to know each other in the first place. Before Derek enrolled his little sister at Beacon Hills High, Laura got a job at some corporate company in the city. That’s where she met Lydia’s mom. Once Ms. Martin found out Laura had a sister the same age as her daughter and would be attending the same school, well, Lydia and Cora were sort of forced to interact. They actually turned out to be relatively good friends however, despite some disagreements here and there, but it was nice to know there was at least one person at her new school that Cora could stand.

“I don’t need to meet new people, Lydia. Especially boys.” Cora shut her locker and began zipping up her backpack.

“As flattering as it is that I’m the one person who you can hold a conversation with without punching in the throat, I can’t help but worry about you, Hale.” Lydia’s voice was suddenly sincere, and it gained Cora’s full attention. Worried? Why would she be worried?

“What’s there to be worried about?” Cora asked, voicing her thoughts. Lydia was leaning against the lockers now, arms crossed. She batted her long eyelashes and pursed her lips in response--that meant the answer was obvious.

Cora rolled her eyes, “I’m not lonely Lydia! One friend is all I need. Plus, I have like at least another three years before Laura starts putting female seeking male ads on Craigslist.” She extended a hand and rested it consolingly on her friend’s shoulder, “I’ll be fi--”

In the spans of half a second, Cora’s attention had been averted, stolen, and taken over. In that very half of a second, she felt violated, confused, infatuated, ridiculous, and like someone else had taken control of her every thought all at once. Her features must have displayed whatever facial expression that particular combination of emotions concocted because Lydia instantly followed Cora’s gaze.

He walked like the entire school was in the palm of his hand. Something about the way he carried himself said it all--broad, muscled shoulders drawn down, back straight, strides long and sauntering as the sea of teenagers parted for him and his tool bag friends. He didn’t dress like anyone special, wasn’t strikingly handsome with a chiseled jaw and a dimpled chin, wasn’t even as muscular as some of the guys surrounding him, but he was beautiful. Someone must have cracked a joke because he broke out in a fit of laughter, and his smile made Cora’s knees weak. She hated him. 

Lydia’s knowing smirk only made matters worse. “See something you like?” She asked, and suddenly everything seemed like it came back into focus. Cora then lost sight of the boy because some tall kid stepped in his way, and she looked down at the redhead.

“No.” Cora mumbled, adjusting the strap of her backpack to remind herself she could control her own movements because for a moment there she wasn’t sure. “I was just wondering how someone could actually look like the physical manifestation of a douchenozzle.”

Lydia shot what almost resembled a glare in Cora’s direction, and it took her aback. “He’s actually a really nice guy, Cora.” Her face relaxed, “Can’t say the same about his friends though. Some people say it’s only a matter of time before he ends up like them, but I don’t think so. He’s got a good heart.” Lydia turned to look at the unnamed jock, and she smiled to herself.

Cora made a face, “Then why don’t you date him.”

Lydia whipped back around in a blur of strawberry blonde curls, “Stiles?! No way! He’s like a brother to me. Nothing more. I mean we kissed once, but it was at a party and we were drunk and couldn’t stop laughing after, but no. Just no.” 

The first bell rang then, signaling that it was time for class. The tall brunette Cora saw earlier was waving Lydia over and she started off in that direction.

“I’ll find you at lunch okay?! Good luck on your first day!” Lydia shouted with a wave, but Cora wasn’t really listening anymore. She was too busy repeating Stiles over and over again in her head. But only because of how weird it sounded, not because she wanted to sigh it against his lips.

~*~

Despite it being a year after championships, thus a new lacrosse season beginning, Stiles Stilinski's popularity seemed to be at an all time high. Some people say it's because he has all the drug hook ups in the school, others say it's because of all the awesome parties he throws, some even say it's because of how great he is in the sack; but while some of those may reign true, none are the actual underlying reason.

Stiles had done what few people could successfully do when put in his situation: he'd remained true to himself. So, regardless of the douchebags who hung around him, the drugs he may or may not have access to, the parties he may or may not have thrown, and the girls he may or may not have slept with until the sun rose, he was still himself. Just emptier.

He didn’t mistake the emptiness with depression, though. Or anything along those lines, really. It’s not like he was a sad guy. The reasons as to why Stiles should be the happiest guy on planet Earth were painfully obvious--but they were also shallow. See, Stiles Stilinski lived in an artificial world of happiness. Popularity, recognition, a social life--all things that held zero meaning at the end of the day. 

The only source of it he knew would last after he graduated high school was Scott McCall. Scott knew Stiles better than Stiles knew himself, and it was simultaneously the nicest and most frustrating trait his friend possessed. 

“Last night’s homework was a bitch.” Stiles huffed as he took his seat in front of Scott who almost immediately tossed a piece of paper onto Stiles’ desk. 

“Swiped it from Coach’s office. It’s this season’s lineup. Congrats cap’n.” Scott smirked, but didn’t look up from whatever he was scrawling onto a piece of notebook paper.  
Stiles’ eyes widened and he snatched the paper then brought it too close to his face, but it didn’t matter because there it was. His name, next to the words ‘Team Captain’. The toothy grin that spread on his lips was too hard earned to repress.

“Holy fucking shit.” He breathed.

Scott was looking up now and clapped his best friend’s shoulder, “Congrats my dude, if anyone deserves it, it’s you.”

“Damn right. I could barely even jerk off all summer because of how sore I was from our incessant practices.” Stiles retorted, eyes still glued to his new title.

Scott snorted, “Good thing you had Heather then. And Lydia. And Malia. And Caitlin. And Caitlin and her girlfriend. And--”

“Okay dude I get it. I’m a dirty slut.” Stiles laughed, punching Scott’s shoulder. 

It’s not like Scott was shaming Stiles and his newfound sluttiness. Stiles knew that. But his jabs were so passive aggressive that they almost made Stiles feel guilty about it anyways. 

That wasn’t Scott’s goal, though. They had the talk before. The talk that consisted of Scott voicing his already evident worry for Stiles and his emotional state. Granted, the meaningless hook-ups were getting a little excessive, but it’s not because Stiles craved “intimacy” or anything. He was used to being alone. 

He just really, really liked having sex.

“And I never slept with Lydia,” Stiles corrected, “We kissed. Once. That’s it.”

Scott sighed, “Right. Whatever. I just worry about you, dude.”

“Well don’t.” Stiles reassured, offering his brother a small smile. “I appreciate your concern, but I’m more than able to distinguish my libido from self-pity.” Unless they’ve somehow become each other’s coping mechanisms. The thought made Stiles frown and he spun around in his desk. 

~*~

After Economics, Scott and Stiles agreed to meet at lunch because Kira wanted to spend study hall with Scott in the library and Stiles really didn’t feel like being the third wheel for the six billionth time. 

A week ago, he left a pizza date with the twosome using that excuse and Kira gave him that disney fucking princess grin and told him that there are loads of various modes of transportation that relied on a third wheel to operate. Stiles just looked her dead in the eyes and said “And how many operators of said vehicles have you met that are in happy relationships?”

That shut her up.

So instead of partaking in that clusterfuck of eskimo kisses and hand holding, Stiles decided he’d go smoke a bowl with Boyd and Isaac behind the bleachers. Yeah, definitely a better plan. Plus, those guys were a couple of the few that didn’t desperately try to kiss Stiles’ ass in exchange for the briefest acknowledgement. 

The fact that Jackson Whittemore was one of the people who did do that made him deeply uncomfortable.

“Hey, Stilinski!” The pompous doucheclown shouted, making his way over. As he neared, Stiles could make out a monster of a zit on his chin and it made Stiles pathetically happy. The fact that Lydia had denied Jackson and his begs for her eternal love and shit when he came back from London so she could date Allison Argent was a real blow to his ego. Plus, Stiles Stilinski exceeding him on the popularity scale didn’t exactly help either. It was great.

Needless to say, Jackson’s pain brought Stiles endless pleasure.

“How’s it hanging?” Jackson asked, his face the embodiment of brown nosing.

“A little to the left and just below my knees, appreciate the concern, buddy.” Stiles smirked, tousling Jackson’s surprisingly ungelled hair. 

Jackson laughed uncomfortably and swallowed whatever was left of his pride. Stiles almost felt sorry for him. Almost.

“No problem. Anyways, what are your plans for tonight?” 

It was a Friday, so Stiles of course had plans. Several plans. Muchos planes. All of which he’d be able to give a play by play of without even going. That’s how routine his life had become. In fact, finding out that he’d made Team Captain earlier that morning was the first surprising thing that had happened to him in weeks. Maybe that’s what this was about. 

“Not sure yet, why? You asking me on a date, Whittemore?” Stiles asked, perking a brow.

Jackson blatantly ignored the latter and went straight to answering the former, “Lacrosse Lineup celebration party at Danny’s...”

Called it.  
Jackson continued, “You’re sorta the guest of honor considering your new ranking. I heard some of the cheerleaders will even be sporting jerseys with twenty-fours on them. Just jerseys.”

“No way?” Stiles asked, a smirk growing on his lips.

“Way.” Jackson answered almost grudgingly.

“Well count me in. I’ll be there. Thanks for letting me know Jackie, I’d be lost without you.” Stiles squeezed both of Jackson’s shoulders and continued heading towards the double doors that lead to the lacrosse field. 

Plans for the night: check. Woop-de-fucking-doo.

~*~

Cora hurried out of English, heavily discouraged by the fact that her first class had already peaked her undeniable need to punch people in the stomach. 

Starting a school mid-semester is never an easy thing. You have a shit ton of work to catch up on, even more reading to do, lessons to learn and in some cases re-learn, and Cora had gone through the movements several times in various grades but the frustration never ceased. Hell, maybe it just came with school as a whole. 

But honestly, why are people still disgusted by Juliet’s age? Cora was certain there were girls in her class fucking dudes years older than Romeo.

Then, as if the universe has some twisted desire to test her patience even further, some ass hole body checked her and her books went flying. 

“Seriously?” She growled, assessing the damage with her fists balled at her sides.

“Shit, I’m really sorry about that. I wasn’t even looking where I was going. Fuck. Oh! Perfect time for the wind to pick up!” A male voice exclaimed, and that caught Cora’s attention. She didn’t even think about her paper’s. Her drawings. One of the few things she wouldn’t even let Derek see.

“Oh my god. Oh my fucking god. Nobody can see those! Those are so fucking private you don’t understand.” Cora panicked, dropping to her hands and knees where she grabbed handfuls of fluttering paper.

“Wait really? Oh shit, okay, um--wait why are they private? Are they like plans to shoot up the school or something? Because to be honest, I’ve never seen you before and that’s probably something I should report otherwise that’d make me an accomp--” Cora cut the blabbering idiot off and reached up, yanking him down by his stupid letterman jacket until all she could see was his eyes.

“Just. Help. Me.” She commanded, ignoring how long his eyelashes were, and it definitely shut him up. 

“Mhm. Yes. Okay. Helping you right now.” He stammered, nodding obediently.

The two navigated the nasty ass ground on all fours for a good five minutes before Cora was convinced she had collected most if not all of her papers. If she had forgotten any, chances are none of the imbeciles at the school would care enough to physically bend over to pick up a piece of what would look like trash. That mere thought comforted her enough to where she could sigh and fall back against a row of lockers, worry-free.

“I think I’m good,” Cora pulled her phone out of her pocket and glanced at the time displayed on the screen then groaned. “And incredibly late late for class. Perfect way to start my first day.”

She rolled her eyes into another dimension and just before she entered a sarcastic oblivion, her vision was obscured by two leanly muscular legs and a crotch area in extremely flattering jeans. 

“Nice to meet you incredibly late for class, I’m Stiles Stilinski.” She looked up with a brow raised, and Stiles winced. “Sorry, that was really lame. Here.” He extended a hand and she pushed it away. 

“No thanks. I’m capable of getting up on my own. But hey, it’s good to know chivalry isn’t completely dead.” She snarked, rising to her feet. Stiles was a couple inches taller than her though, which simultaneously sucked and was super hot. But mostly sucked because it was super hot.

“Glad to be the reason you reinstated your faith.” He mumbled, dropping his hand to his side, discouraged. 

Cora slung her backpack over her shoulder and held her slightly crumpled papers close to her chest before extending her free hand out for the ones in Stiles’ grasp. He smiled and handed them to her. 

“Thanks for helping me.” She said, adding the rest of the loose leafs to the pile.

“No problemo. Sorry for body checking you. I had a bowl waiting for me behind the bleachers and was pretty excited about it. A little too excited, apparently.” Stiles forced a laugh and rubbed the back of his neck. 

Cora knew what a bowl was, despite her lack of social interaction, but his honesty took her by surprise. Usually a guy like Stiles would look at a girl like Cora and assume she was some sort of a nark. Nerds usually are according to societal stereotypes. 

Maybe Cora should rat him out. Stick it to the man. Overthrow the patriarchy. Or something like that. The fact that he was even paying her any attention was probably just as some sort of a joke. His friends were more than likely filming from some dark corner right now, snickering as Stiles prepared the can of animal blood. Fuck that. Cora was not becoming a modern day Carrie.

Her eyes must have had the same idea because they darted to his hands that actually weren’t behind his back or making signals or anything, but were veiny, slenderly fingered, and beautiful hanging and his sides. 

“It’s cool.” Cora finally said, adjusting the strap of her backpack. “Well um, I should probably get to class. If I make it back within the first fifteen minutes, I might still be able to get away with saying I got lost.”

Stiles nodded, “Yeah, totally. Cool cool.” He gave her a thumbs up for whatever fucking reason and promptly shoved his hands deep in his jacket pockets. Cora ignored the feeling in the pit of her stomach that hoped that wouldn’t be the last time she’d see them, and smiled quickly.

A lock of hair slipped from behind her ear and veiled her face, so she took it as an opportunity start to class. But this kid was persistent. 

“Hey, wait!” Stiles shouted, and Cora blew the hair from her face before she turned around, eyebrows raised inquisitively.

“You never told me your name.” Stiles said, and the bravado of his voice caused Cora’s toes to curl in her shoes. God, she wanted to gag.

“Cora. Cora Hale.” 

~*~

Stiles was super fucking thankful that she’d told him her name twice because, if he was being honest, he was so not listening the first time she said it and was watching her maddeningly full lips instead. 

In fact, it had been a struggle committing just her lips to memory because he had this uncontrollable urge to visually devour her. He was enamoured by the sultriness of her eyes, the hollows of her collarbones, the way her skin stretched across the bones of her wrists, and frankly it fucking freaked him out. He hadn’t even glanced at her ass yet. Or her tits. 

Maybe it was because she was new or whatever. He thought he heard her mention something about it being her first day. Yeah, that was probably it. Stiles had never seen her before so he was just appreciating the female anatomy. No biggie. Artsy as fuck even. Maybe that was what maturing felt like. Stiles was maturing.

Sweet.

“Nice name. I dig it. Well I don’t wanna hold you up any longer. My first impression has already been pretty shitty, so uh, I guess I’ll see you around Cora.” He threw his head back a little, taking a couple starting steps backwards and smiled.

“Yeah okay. See you around Stiles.” Cora replied, but Stiles could tell she didn’t mean it.

Fucking perfect. It wasn’t anything Stiles wasn’t used to by now, but it still sucked ass. Multiple girls--no--multiple people had blown him off right off the bat because ever since his popularity had started taking steroids. They just assumed he’d be a Jackson Whittemore circa sophomore year and, at this point, Stiles didn’t even blame them.

Stupid fucking letterman jacket. He shouldn’t have let Scott convince him to buy one. The moment it came in the mail and he tried it on for the first time he could feel his inner tool bag materializing. The letterman jacket was, like, the icing on the elitist douche clown cake.

Stiles waved defeatedly and turned on his heels before heading straight for the lacrosse field. He needed that bowl with his bros now more than ever.


	2. o hormones! my hormones!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So, Cora and Stiles are now officially aware of eachother's existence. Progress. Thing is, Stiles keeps finding himself thinking about her stupid back dimples, and Cora keeps finding herself doing everything she can not to think about his stupid eyelashes. Regress. It isn't until the Lacrosse Line-Up Celebration party at Danny's that their paths cross once more, and the sexual tension is so thick that a bucket of ice water is needed to separate them. Or something like that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> well let me start off by saying that i'm so incredibly sorry about how late this is. i got insanely busy out of nowhere and just couldn't find the time to finish this so it sat in google docs for a while. but it's out now and chapter three is in the works. as always enjoy~

Isaac took a long hit off the pipe and inhaled sharply, “You coming tonight, jock strap?” He asked before releasing a steady stream of smoke from deep inside his lungs. 

“Fuck you, and yeah. Nothing better to do.” Stiles answered, taking the piece and lighter from Isaac.

“Good, ‘cause we’ve got a cooler full of Beacon Hills’ shittiest beer to pour all over the new team captain.” Isaac laughed, and Boyd fist bumped him. 

Stiles perked a brow and let the drag he just took from the pipe slip from his lips as he spoke, “I’m definitely no expert on poorly executed sports team pranks, but that really sounds like something I’m not supposed to know.”

Isaac and Boyd’s smiles disappeared and they looked at each other with worried expressions. 

“Way to go Shirley Temple, that was supposed to be a secret!” Boyd shouted, smacking Isaac upside the head. 

“Ow dude!” Isaac yelled, rubbing his curly locks. “You didn’t even realize that until killjoy over here reminded us!” He added, motioning to Stiles.

Stiles coughed up the rest of the smoke in a fit of laughter and passed the pipe to Boyd, waving both of them off. “Yo guys, how about this. We forget this ever happened, and I’ll act surprised when you dump the beer on me. I won’t tell the rest of the team you ruined the plan, and you make them hold off until the party’s almost over so I don’t have to walk around in booze soaked clothes all night. We got a deal?” 

Isaac and Boyd gave each other a look, and the blonde shrugged after a few seconds. 

Boyd sighed and looked over at Stiles, “Fine. We got a deal.”

Stiles smiled proudly and reached over to pat both of them on the shoulder, “Fantastic.”

Isaac and Boyd rolled their eyes, but Stiles didn’t mind. As long as he didn’t have to spend tonight in boozy boxers, he considered it a win. On the other hand, his high was kicking in and he was feeling good. All he had to do was get through the rest of the school day, head to work for a few hours, then he’d be able to maybe get a blowie from one of the cheerleaders and drink himself into a coma.

Maybe even forget that he’d be waking up alone.

Or the fact that he couldn’t stop thinking about the dimples on the small of Cora’s back when she bent over to pick up all of her papers.

~*~

When the bell rang ending third period pre-calc, Cora guessed that it was lunchtime judging by the herd of teenagers all heading in one direction and decided to follow. She was pretty hungry anyways, so why not stuff her face with freezerburned cheeseburgers and tater tots.

“There you are.” Lydia whispered playfully in Cora’s ear before bumping hips with her in the lunch line. The infuriatingly stunning brunette was hand in hand with her and before Cora could introduce herself, Lydia did the honors. 

“Cora, this is my girlfriend Allison. She’s been wanting to meet you all morning so I figured we could make room for you at the lunch table. That is if you haven’t already made a new best friend.” The redhead teased, dropping Allison’s hand to grab a tray from the stack.

“Nice to meet you Allison, I’d love to sit with you guys. Any other table and I’d be resisting the urge to gauge my own eyes out with a dirty spoon.” Cora said, a bitter smile gracing her lips. Allison was evidently a little taken aback by the comment and Lydia was quick to notice.

“She’s kidding, babe. Cora is the definition of teenage cynicism. But that’s exactly why I love her.” Lydia smiled, handing both of the girls their trays.

~*~

Once the three reached their designated table, Cora couldn’t help but notice the busty blonde sitting across from the shy looking girl in Avengers leggings. It’s almost as if every single girl at this god forsaken school was sent directly from some hot-chick factory that specializes in perfect skin and long legs. Cora blew at the strand of hair that had fallen over her face and plopped down in her seat.

“Hey, you’re Derek’s sister.” Erica smirked, and threw one leg over the bench they shared so she could face Cora completely. “Good looks must run in the family.”

Cora scoffed, “They run alright. Far away from me.”

She got a giggle out of that, and Erica extended a hand. “I’m Erica. She’s Kira. Welcome to the social caste system that is Beacon Hills High School.” She introduced, motioning to the girl across from her in the Avengers leggings who smiled politely. 

Cora mirrored it and nodded, “Thanks. I’m Cora.”

A chorus of bellowing laughs erupted from behind her, and Cora along with the other girls at the table, turned and craned their necks towards the source of it. Naturally, it came from the table crowded with jocks and cheerleaders. Some of them didn’t even have seats and were perched on the table, or on laps, having a jolly good time. Cora rolled her eyes.

Then, as if it were planned, a boy with a crooked jaw, another who seemed to nearly explode out of his letterman jacket with muscles, and one more with a head of curly blonde locks stood and climbed onto the surface of the table in front of none other than Stiles Stilinski.

“What are you dumbasses doing now? Oh my god, get down!” He pleaded between fits of laughter and embarrassment. She could only tell by focusing really hard on his voice and lips, drowning out every other voice in the lunchroom. It was easier than expected--much easier.

“O Captain! My Captian!” The Stooges shouted in unison, arms draped around each other’s shoulders. “The team has motor-boated every rack, the championship we sought was won!” They recited, and it was clear they parphrased a little of Whitman’s work here and there.

Stiles was red-faced by now. From both laughing himself to tears and mortification. The entire table was, really, and for some reason Cora wanted to be a part of it. She wanted a special seat on Stiles’ lap, arm slung lazily around his neck while they convulsed in hysterics. She wanted to be that close to his smile. 

“Never seen a pack of were-idiots before?” Erica asked, and she bumped Cora’s shoulder with her own teasingly. 

“Huh? Oh. Um, plenty. I’ve seen plenty. I was actually in the middle of taking mental notes for my history class. We’re studying neanderthals and I need to have an essay done on their influence on modern society by Friday.” Cora joked, returning to picking at her pile of green beans.

“Stop picking on Cora. It’s painfully obvious that she wants to ride Stilinski until she can’t walk anymore.” Lydia said with a small shrug before sipping from her juice box daintily.

Cora choked on her pizza and the girls all laughed. “Not true. Not true at all.”

Lydia smirked and leaned forward so her elbows were on the table, “Oh it’s true. And we’re all going to meet up at my house tonight, sexify you up, and take you to your first party.”

~*~

It’s not like Stiles hated his job, he just hated his boss. Okay, no, he didn’t hate his boss either. They’re relationship just consisted of a lot of professional disapproval. If Stiles had a nickel for everytime Derek Hale told him to spin the freaking specials sign on the corner, he’d be able to play at least twelve games of Pac-Man. Or something like that. Derek, or Mr. Hale as Stiles was supposed to refer to him, owned this relatively popular sports bar slash burger place in Old Towne Beacon Hills called Skybox and Stiles got a job there after the school got the joint to sponsor their lacrosse team. 

Since day one, Stiles has tried everything he could think of to get on his boss’ good side (Including but not limited to the surprise stripper he got him on his birthday disguised as a sexy IRS representative. That one just ended terribly), but nothing ever works. 

“Do you ever smile?” Stiles asked as he washed the bar with a rag. One of the flatscreens was displaying that Mini Cooper commercial with an adorable bull dog, and Derek just glared at it like the thing like it owed him a shitload of money.

“Do you ever shut up?” Derek grumbled, turning up the TV with the remote in his fist.

Stiles rolled his eyes and reached up, pressing the off button. It was a slow afternoon at Skybox, and Stiles was bored. He had two more hours until his shift was over, and then he could head home, shower, get dressed, and get to that stupid party. “I’m serious dude, I don’t think I’ve ever even seen you smirk. Do you have a gap in your teeth or something? Adult braces? Tongue piercing?”

Derek blinked, then aimed the remote above Stiles’ head and turned the TV back on.

“Hey, you didn’t deny it. I’m gonna take that as a maybe.” Stiles shrugged and pulled off the rag he’d draped on his shoulder and continued wiping at the counter. His mind wandered. Tongue piercing. Man, that’d be something. Maybe Derek went through a punk phase in high school. Then again, he doesn’t even look that much older than Stiles so how long ago could his high school years have been? How old is Derek, even? Why does Stiles know literally nothing about his boss? The guy who is responsible for the small yet substantial amount of money currently in Stiles’ wallet? What if he was a serial killer? Or a hit man? That could be why he’s so emotionally empty. He’s seen too much. The stories he must have…

“You got any family?” Stiles blurted, assuming that if he appealed to the emotional side of his hit man serial killer boss maybe Stiles could remain, you know, alive.

“Please stop talking.” Derek stated quickly, bulging arms crossed as he stared blankly at the football game on screen.

Stiles tossed the rag onto his shoulder again and rolled his eyes, “C’mon man, I’m serious! I don’t know anything about you. Don’t you think that’s a little bizarre? I mean, you’re my employer. You could be committing tax fraud and I’d have no idea. How about this: We’ll play twenty--”

“No.”

“--questions. There’s only one rule and it’s that you have to answer honestly. I’ll go first. Derek Hale are you, or have you ever been, a serial killer or a hit man, and in addition to that question have you ever killed anyone? Even on accident. Tell me now, dude. Then give me at least fifty-nine point five seconds to run.” Stiles finished, ignoring Derek’s protest.

Derek just stared at him blankly, but Stiles could tell by the slightly perked eyebrow that Derek was seriously contemplating Stiles’ intelligence. Which made him contemplate it himself. But, after a pause that seemed to last five hundred years, Derek simply said: “Mom, dad, uncle, and two sisters.”

Stiles quietly let out the breath he was holding and nodded, “Are you the typical protective older brother?”

“I’m in the middle. One’s older, one’s in high school. You satisfied?”

Stiles smirked, proud of himself for getting his ice king of a boss to talk about something as personal as his family. Even if he only used less than twenty words to do so. 

“Totally.”

Stiles spent the rest of his shift cleaning dishes and shelving cocktail glasses in silence, but Derek didn’t make him spin the specials sign out on the corner so he considered that to be progress.

~*~

“I’m going to look ridiculous.” Cora dreaded, taking a seat in front of Lydia’s vanity mirror in her bedroom. 

Lydia herself, Allison, Erica, and Kira circled around her and talked to their reflections in the mirror. 

“Jesus, Cora, have a little faith.” Lydia said.

“Maybe some bouncy, flirty curls?” Kira suggested, playing with Cora’s hair.

“Seventeen Magazine hairstyles aren’t going to matter when Cora’s flirting with Stiles and bouncing on his dick.” Erica laughed, and Cora cringed.

Allison leaned forward and made sure she was speaking just to Cora, “You’re gonna look beautiful okay? So just relax, and let the eighties movie sleepover montage begin.”  
Cora found herself in the middle of a tornado of eyelash curlers, lip plumpers, and cheek stains but just did as Allison said and sat back and took it like a champ. Cora had never really liked makeup. She could never get the hang of it, hated that she couldn’t touch her face when she had it on, hated feeling like she was conforming to a man’s idea of a lady, and basically just effort. But, as she willingly let her new friends paint her like a canvas, she found herself giggling along with their jokes, enjoying the fruity taste of her lip gloss, and looking forward to the finished look. Maybe this is what being a teenager felt like.

“Aaaand we’re done.” Lydia chimed, taking an admiring step back.

Cora opened her eyes with a hesitant flutter of her elongated eyelashes and a collective gasp from each girl in front of her broke the silence.

“Fuck Stilinski, you wanna take me home tonight?” Erica blurted, and Cora actually blushed.

“You seriously look so pretty.” Kira complemented with the world’s sweetest smile.

“Well let’s shut up and actually let her have a look at her own face,” Allison announced, winking at Cora before turning her around to face the mirror. 

Cora was in no way prepared. She didn’t even recognize herself. But it was a good unfamiliarity. Like, it gave it her the freedom to be whoever she wanted to be and the confidence to go through with it. Not only did she look beautiful, but she felt beautiful and that was so important. 

` “I-I love it. I seriously love it. You guys are magic or something.” She swirled around in her chair and smiled up at them. “Thanks. I mean it.”

Lydia grinned, “Don’t thank us yet sweetie, we haven’t dressed you yet.”

And before Cora knew it, she was being tugged out of her seat by a swarm of hands with various shades of painted fingernails and then towards Lydia’s overflowing closet. 

The girls put her in more outfits than Cora had owned in her entire life and although she didn’t particularly favor the Barbie perspective of life, she wasn’t complaining. Cora had never really been the shopping type being that Derek was primarily the one who raised her. She even got a lot of her older brother’s hand-me-downs, so clothes were never something Cora was really good at. The experience was even interesting on an educational level. Who knew 13 different outfits could be made out of a crop top, skirt, and one infinity scarf. 

“What if people think I’m trying too hard?” Cora blurted, staring at her reflection in the mirror. She was wearing this flattering scoopneck, all black, skater dress that ended just above her knees and the girl’s had paired it with these really cute nude flats. “We want all the attention to be on your face,” Lydia had said. And Cora had to admit, the deep maroon colored lipstick they’d slathered on her mouth matched with the ridiculously long lashes and smoky bronze eyeshadow did just that. 

“Since when do you give a shit what other people think of you?” Lydia asked, smoothing out Cora’s dress. She had a point. Cora had never cared about people’s opinions other than those whom she respected, but she couldn’t help but feel anxious about tonight anyways. 

“Since I somehow let you four talk me into going out for once, I guess.” Cora did a quick ninety-five degree turn and realized that she actually had an ass in this dress. That made her smile.

“You’re going to be fine, Cora. You look drop dead gorgeous. You’ll fit right in and you’ve got all four of us to make sure you have a good time.” Allison assured, smiling sweetly.

Cora starred her reflection head-on and took a deep breath, “Alright. Let’s just get this over with.”

~*~

By the time Stiles got to Danny’s, showered and clad in a white tee, jeans, and his letterman jacket, the party was already in full swing. Danny was such a freaking social butterfly. Every party he threw ever surpassed anyone’s Project X expectations, it was insane. Stiles was just glad this wasn’t all going down at his house. There were definitely perks of having a Sheriff as a father. Not having to clean up vomit and red solo cups the morning after a Friday night rager was one of them.

“YO, EVERYBODY IT’S STILES! THE GUEST OF HONOR! SOMEBODY GET HIM A BEER PRONTO!” Jackson shouted the second Stiles stepped through the door. It was like he was waiting for him. Stiles wouldn’t put it past him.

“Nah man, I’m all g--okay, uh thanks I guess.” He mumbled as multiple beers were forced into his grasp. 

“Hey bro, way to be fashionably late.” Scott smiled as he made his way over to the boy for one of those handshake slash one armed hug things that Stiles never understood. 

“Yeah, minus the fashionably!” Isaac joked, and him and Boyd laughed way too hard.

Stiles rolled his eyes because practically every lacrosse player in the room was wearing the exact same thing, including Isaac and Boyd. Like an army of intelligently deficient fatheads. Scott was wearing one of those “Ask me about my T-Rex” shirts, though, and Stiles loved him for that.

“Yeah, sorry dude. My shower ended up taking longer than expected. Never should taped that picture of Emma Stone to my bathroom mirror.” Stiles joked, and that got a laugh or two. He was lying though. Stiles was only late because he’d spent a good twenty minutes staring blankly at his car keys on his desk internally debating whether or not he should actually go.

Clearly, the neanderthal idiot on his left shoulder beat the plaid wearing, hyperactive kid he used to be on his right.

“Well in that case you’re off the hook, my dude. Wanna head over to the kitchen and toss back some shots to make up for lost time? “ Scott suggested and Boyd and Isaac high fived before taking off ahead of him.

Stiles forced a smile and clapped his best friend on the back, “Mind taking some for me? I’m not really up for drinking tonight.”

“Up to you, man. You’re gonna be the one that’s missing out on Erica doing body shots.” Scott shrugged nonchalantly and started towards the kitchen.

Stiles perked up, “Wait, what? Erica’s doing body shots in there? Like, tall, curvy, blonde Erica? Gave me a stiffy just by touching knees with me at lunch Erica? Fucked me in the back of the library during study hall Erica?”

“None other.”

Stiles thought for probably an entire millisecond before blurting, “Okay yeah sure I’m in.” And with that he beelined for the kitchen. Maybe tonight wouldn’t be so bad after all.

~*~

Allison, Erica, Lydia, and Kira are vicious liars. Well, they weren’t at first, but as soon as the alcohol started making it’s way through their blood streams, they most definitely became selfish, evil, liars.

While Cora stood awkwardly in the corner of the living room by some sort of foliage, she observed Allison and Lydia making out on the couch, Kira flirting with that kid from lunch with the crooked jaw, and Erica was no where to be found. Every single one of them, preoccupied. Shamelessly! Like they didn’t even feel bad for getting her all dressed up just to drag her to some party and leave her to fend for herself.

Maybe she was being dramatic, but she still seethed with the hope that they’d all feel undeniably terrible for it in the morning. 

“Hey beautiful,” Said a squeaky male voice, breaking Cora out of her angry trance. She turned to see some obviously drunk boy with a brooding forehead standing beside her, a smug grin on his face. “Who are you?”

“Not interested.” Cora deadpanned, turning her back to him.

The boy quickly stepped around and in front of her. “Aw c’mon, give me a chance. Here, I’ll go first. I’m Aiden. I saw you from across the room and just so happened to notice that you are the sexiest girl here. So, naturally, I had to come and talk to you.”

Cora feigned a smile, “Naturally.”

Aiden smirked, like her defiance was turning him on and Cora’s stomach quickly began to churn. This asshole wasn’t going to take no for an answer. 

“Why don’t you and I go into Danny’s room for some privacy. Get to know each other a little better. You could even show me what’s under that dress of yours.” He whispered disgustingly, his fingers trailing up her thigh.

Cora smacked his hand away and pushed him back a step, “Do not fucking touch me.” She growled, and it only made the smirk on Aiden’s lips grow.

“Paying hard to get are you? I love a girl who can put up a fight. It’s like wrestling, but naked.” He hissed, taking a determined step forward before gripping her waist with brute force, then dipping his face into the neckline of her dress.

~*~

Disappointed, Stiles stood in the kitchen and watched every other guy get licked and kissed by Erica who, for some reason, told him that she “Couldn’t mess around with him anymore.” And when he asked why, all she had said was, “You’re a likeable guy, Stilinski. Believe it or not.” Then that was it. No body shots for him.

Before he could sulk about it for much longer though, he heard a crash coming from the living room. Like someone had dropped a glass vase or something. Her perked up, and no one else in the kitchen seemed to notice. Too blitzed, probably. Stiles waited for a laugh or something, wondering if it was just a drunken accident, but it was quickly followed by a somewhat familiar voice shouting “GET THE FUCK AWAY FROM YOU YOU CREEP!”

Stiles sprinted from the kitchen, tearing out of the swinging door that cut it off from the rest of the house. Everyone was circled around a group of people; faces that Stiles couldn’t make out. Frustrated, he pushed through the crowd that eventually parted for him and finally assessed the situation. 

That douchebag Aiden from the cross country team was rolling his glazed over eyes and laughing, trying to make whatever had just happened here seem like nothing important, but the brunette huddled in the corner with her dress hanging off her shoulder said otherwise. It was Cora from school, and rage quickly began to boil Stiles’ blood.

“Wanna tell me what the fuck is going on?” Stiles growled, stepping out of the crowd of people and getting right up in Aiden’s face. His hands shook at his sides so he balled them up into fists and the room got quiet. 

“Chill out, Cap’n. The lady and I were just messing around and things got a little excited. We accidently broke the nice little lamp, but I’ll pay Danny back for it. No worries. You can move along now, Stiles.” Aiden spat, condescendingly patting Stiles’ bulked up chest.

Stiles noticed a scratch on Aiden’s eyebrow then, and blood was starting to trickle down his temple. “Then what’s that from?” Stiles asked.

“She likes it rough.” Aiden whispered almost teasingly, and Stiles looked over at Cora; jaw clenched. 

“You do that to him?” Stiles asked her directly.

Aiden piped up, “I just told you--”

“I asked Cora. Say one more thing without permission and the next thing that gets broken is going to be your jaw.” Stiles threatened, holding Aiden’s gaze for one more second before turning to Cora again.

The entire room seemed to wait for an answer from her, and Stiles noticed that she was trembling. His knuckles turned white at his sides.

Cora nodded.

Stiles found himself smiling at her, and he himself nodded slightly. It was a small smile and a microscopic nod, but he was--he was proud of her.

He turned back to Aiden whose expression had gone from smug and cavalier to worried and anxious. “Do you want me to punch you in the face, Aiden? How about a nice right hook right here.” Stiles asked, motioning to the boy’s cheekbone.

Aiden swallowed and shook his head, “No thanks. Can’t we just forget this ever happened?”  
Stiles gave Aiden a mocked pout and cracked his knuckles douche-tastically, “But you’re being such a jerk tonight,” He whined, “Can I punch you in the face at least once? C’mon man. Just one time. You and me.”

Aiden furrowed his brow and took a step back, “Dude, no. What’s wrong with you?”

And with that, Stiles reared back and clocked Aiden directly on his cheekbone. The boy fell back instantly, and grasped at his face.

“Oh! I’m sorry! Did you say you didn’t want me to punch you in the face? Sucks when someone completely disregards your blatant disconsent, doesn’t it?! You have no idea how long I’ve been waiting to do that!” Stiles shouted down at him, the crowd around him cheering.

Stiles turned to check on Cora, then, but she was no where to be found. 

~*~

Fucking men. Cora wished testosterone was never even a thing. She was perfectly capable of handling herself in that situation. Stiles even saw the scratch on his face from when she clawed at it, yet still felt the need to assert his male dominance in front of everyone. Typical.

He had smiled though, when she let him know the damage on Aiden’s face was inflicted by her. Almost as though he was pleased by it, like he wanted to make sure Cora had gotten her share of physical abuse in before Stiles had his turn. Maybe he had his own personal vendetta with the creep and Cora’s near rape incident was what put him over the edge.

That definitely wouldn’t mean he cared about her though. No way. Impossible. Stiles could very well just be a good samaritan. Beacon Hills High’s own jock vigilante. Definitely plausible.

Cora was sat on the front porch steps mulling over all of these ridiculous thoughts when she heard the door behind her open. She shot up and whipped around, preparing herself for an encounter with another disgusting male specimen, but her breath hitched in her throat when she saw that it was only Stiles.

Only Stiles.

“Whoa, hey. It’s just me, Stiles. I don’t know if you remember my name or not, but it’s Stiles.”

“You just said that.”

“Yeah I did, didn’t I. Hey, at least now you know, right?”  
“I didn’t forget it.”

“You didn’t? I-I mean, cool. Awesome. That’s--are you okay?” Stiles asked quickly, taking a step forward so he could shut the front door behind him.

“I’m fine. If you’re expecting me to thank you, you’re wasting your time.” Cora grumbled.

Stiles shook his head, “I didn’t expect you to thank me. Not a day goes by where I don’t wanna punch that asswipe in the face.”

“Well I’m glad I could provide an excuse for you, to.” Cora scoffed.

Stiles looked hurt by that, “What? No. That’s not it at--shit. I fucked this up. That’s, like, the complete opposite of what I wanted you to think.”

Cora perked a brow, “No, I get it. You wanted me to get all tingly after watching you punch some drunk guy in my honor and then take you into the back room and blow you like the hero you are. Right?”

Stiles’ expression jumped from hurt to insulted and almost angry, “Jesus...Is that really what you think of me?”

Cora shrugged. That wasn’t the answer she was expecting. “I don’t know. Sorry. Forget I said anything. I’m just still a little shaken up I guess.”

Stiles just nodded, saying nothing. 

“How’s your hand?” Cora asked, breaking the silence.

“How are you getting home?” Stiles asked, ignoring her question.

Cora blinked before jabbing a thumb over her shoulder, “I was gonna walk. My friends are all drunk inside so I kinda have to.”

“I could give you a ride.” Stiles suggested.

“Forgive me, but I’m not too keen on trusting guys I hardly know anymore than I have to tonight. Or ever again.” Cora replied.

“Whatever you say. See you around, Cora.” Stiles said as he skipped down the front porch stairs, passing her before heading to what Cora assumed was his Jeep.

She watched him as he walked, hard not to with his broad shoulders sauntering with every step, and quickly felt like shit for making the assumptions she had. He could very well have just been trying to protect her, not because he didn’t think she was capable, but because he knew he was. “Random acts of kindness do still exist.” is what Cora’s mother always tells her. She made her next decision in two point three seconds and just decided to roll with it. 

“Stiles, wait!” Cora shouted, jogging after him in her borrowed nude flats.

Stiles turned around, eyes full of an endearing hope that actually made Cora feel safe with him. “You okay?” He asked, and Cora hated him for being so concerned, but at the same time wanted to say no just so he’d wrap his arms around her and pull her against his chest for the rest of the night.

“Yeah, I just--I’ll take you up on that ride offer. My place is a ways away and these flats aren’t exactly ideal shoes to be walking in.”

Stiles smiled, “Just tell me where, and I’ll get you home.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> any questions, comments, or concerns can be directed here: www.stilinsomniac.tumblr.com/ask

**Author's Note:**

> chapter two coming soon-ish! any questions, comments, or concerns should be directed here: www.stilinsomniac.tumblr.com


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